


Perfect Symmetry

by jashin_senpai



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Drabble, Long-Distance Friendship, M/M, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 13:51:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17529905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jashin_senpai/pseuds/jashin_senpai
Summary: Otabek and Yuri text each other all the time.





	Perfect Symmetry

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this ages ago with the intention of it being much longer, but I don't think I'll ever get around to it and I liked it well enough to post as a short drabble. Enjoy!

As soon as he sees the cat, he knows Yuri will love her. She’s not exactly a classical feline beauty, with her slightly pushed-in face and grumpy demeanor, but her fur is incredibly soft and lustrous.

He quickly snaps a picture of her and forwards it to Yuri. Almost immediately, his phone buzzes in reply.

 

_cute!_ _ฅ(´-ω-`)_ _ฅ_

_give her a pet from me_

That exclamation point makes his heart flip a little, the idea that he has managed to grant Yuri some genuine feeling of delight. He messages back

 

_meow! she says she appreciates it._

This kind of lighthearted play is generally foreign to him, but Yuri makes it so easy, somehow.

The cat belongs to his physiotherapist. He’s currently undergoing correction for a patella misalignment – not a career-threatening injury, not enough to prevent him from competing this coming season, but still a setback. Every second he’s in here not training, his competitors are out there getting better.

As though he can read Otabek’s thoughts, Yuri messages him

 

_how’s the knee_

_or rather_

_how frustrated are you right now_

 

He snorts, tapping away at his phone.

 

_sympathy for the competition, yuri?_

_could be a lot worse. not much to be done about it now so frustration is pointless._

Yuri’s reply takes a few minutes. He’s on the Saint Petersburg metro, on his way to practice, although he hadn’t specified whether he meant the rink or the studio.

 

_if you aren’t in top shape it won’t mean anything when I kick your ass this season_

_and I know you_

_you hate taking time off_

Otabek’s sister had questioned his friendship with Yuri once, asking whether it would affect his skating.

“Wouldn’t you be tempted to let him win, to spare his feelings?” she had said.

Otabek had nearly laughed out loud. If he ever dared to do such a thing, Yuri would probably never speak to him again.

 

_alright, yes, I admit I am definitely frustrated. still won’t change anything._

_and “kicking my ass this season?” what gave you that idea? you are going down, yuri. I will make sure of it :)_

 

He does in fact laugh out loud when he sees Yuri’s reply, which is simply

 

 _¡¡¡( •̀ ᴗ •́ )_ و _!!! ¡¡¡( •̀ ᴗ •́ )_ و _!!! ¡¡¡( •̀ ᴗ •́ )_ و _!!!_

 

He stops messaging for a couple of hours after that, so Otabek assumes he’s busy training. He finishes up at the physio and heads back to his apartment. It’s small place in inner-city Montreal, just a couple of blocks away from his regular training facility.

His parents had fussed over him for weeks when he first moved to Montreal, like they thought he’d never seen a city in his life before, even though they only lived an hour or so out of Almaty. It was probably the distance that set them on edge.

“Why not Russia?” his mother had asked him when he first announced his intentions of training overseas. “You did that summer training camp, with Yakov in Saint Petersburg, remember? I’m sure they would accept you if you applied. Why does it have to be Canada?”

 _That training camp is exactly why I didn’t apply for Yakov’s school_ he’d thought. He’d long accepted that ballet was never going to be his strong suit, and concentrated all his effort into his jumps instead. The Canadian school he was applying to suited his skating style much better.

Six years on and he still doesn’t regret his decision. If he’d gone to Saint Petersburg, he thinks he would have been stuck in Yuri Plisetsky’s shadow forever, and Yuri probably wouldn’t have given him the time of day as a result.

As things are now, he’s good enough at what he does to provide positive competition for Yuri, while being dissimilar enough in style to avoid the inevitable friction that comes when Yuri is compared to anyone, however favourably.

Otabek is the first to admit that yeah, Yuri’s pretty obnoxious at times. But he can’t help but love that part of him too, the part of him that says with absolute confidence, “yes, I am a winner, I _deserve_ this victory.” And now as an Olympic gold medalist at seventeen, he definitely has the merit to back it up.

Otabek was standing beside him when he received the gold, silver looped around his own neck. Yuri had leaned over and told him, “thank you.”

Some might have found it a little backhanded; cruel, even. Predictably obnoxious behaviour from the Russian Punk. Otabek didn’t – he understood exactly what Yuri was trying to say, that he wouldn’t have won if Otabek hadn’t been there, pushing him. Otabek felt the same way about Yuri.

When Otabek gets back to the apartment, he decides to make the most of his short reprieve from training – even though doing so grates on his nerves like nothing else – and takes a long afternoon nap.

He wakes up a few hours later to find his phone bombarded with messages from Yuri.

 

_guess who was at the rink today_

_victor and his pet piggy_

_they’re soooooo annoying, georgi wasn’t even this bad when he was with anya_

_I’m starting to understand those lyrics from the song victor used in his stay close to me routine_

_about stabbing people who are obnoxiously in love_

_oi beka are you even there_

_beka_

_bekaaaaaa_

He messages Yuri back quickly,

 

_was asleep, sry._

_try to refrain from stabbing your mentor please._

It takes Yuri over half an hour to reply, which is long enough for Otabek to start worrying that he’d actually pissed him off by being afk for so long. His reply doesn’t seem to hold any serious animosity though.

 

_in the middle of the day?_

_you slacker_

_since when the fuck is victor my ‘mentor’ anyway_

Otabek smirks as he types his reply, knowing it will annoy him.

 

_who said anything about victor?_

_I was talking about the other yuri._

Predictably, Yuri goes off at him, but he does it in such a way that makes Otabek suspect he’s playing it up for his amusement and isn’t really angry. Otabek interrupts him to ask

 

_so what are you up to?_

_practice is over I assume._

Yuri’s reply is immediate

 

_playing counterstrike_

He has attached a quick selfie of himself sprawled on his bed, laptop beside him. Otabek has to swallow, his mouth suddenly dry at the sliver of bare skin exposed at Yuri’s hip where his shirt is riding up. Somehow, he manages to reply

 

_you are such a stereotype._

_and you might want to look at buying a new shirt, that one’s looking a little short these days._

_ah?_

_you were looking at my shirt?_ _☆( >_ _ω_ _・)_

The little shit. Yuri does this thing sometimes, where it seems like he’s flirting with Otabek. He plays along, but never pushes further than that, unsure if Yuri actually means it or not. He kind of wants to find out, kind of doesn’t.

 

_you know it._

 


End file.
